My Life Is Hell And I Know It
by crave-the-rave
Summary: I've got a bathroom door for a mother, a tie for a father and a skateboard for a friend. Oh, and there's that freak in a beanie, but he's not important. SeiferxHayner Seiner main
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: language, future boyxboy, adult themes, angst, alcoholism

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or anything mentioned in this chapter other then the plot.

Pairing/s: main Seiner, AkuRoku, Pence/Olette.

* * *

She was puking her guts out when I came in. Just leaning over the bowl vomiting whatever alcohol she'd had that morning. From what I could see it seemed to be a cocktail of various drink, but then again I can't be sure. I'm not an expert on what vodka looks like when it's regurgitated.

That's what I see mostly. The door. The bathroom door. If someone told me to draw her I'd draw a door. That's pretty much what she is. Or broken furniture. Smashed glass.

I sigh. Loudly. She still didn't notice me. Still leaning over, head resting on the side, a scratchy moan escaping her lips. I coughed. Still no movement.

"Mom?" I asked. She seemed to notice me then, tilting her head towards me giving me a decent look at her bloodshot eyes and dishevelled appearance: vomit dripping from her hair, mixing in with the grease and various hair dye, dark circles which could have been from lack of sleep, or running eyeliner. I wince.

"Hayner?"

At least she remembered my name. I walk forward, ignoring the overpowering stench and lean down to her level, lightly touching her shoulder.

"Yeah mom. Come on, let's get you cleaned up," I say, trying to sound reassuring. She shakes her head and I lean back to avoid being struck by vomit.

"No. No no...I sstill have a drink," she slurs. I nod.

"I know you do mom, but it'll be a lot stronger once you wash your hair," I say. She swivels her eyes to mine.

"Sstronger?" she asks. I nod again, all the while leading her toward the bath. I check there's a towel near by. I'm in luck.

"Yeah mom. Much stronger," I say. I guide her head towards the bath. She tries to pull away.

"Get offf me," she says.

"You need to wash your hair mom," I say, this time more sternly. It seems to work and I reach with my free hand for the shower head.

"Ya...ya know what Hay-ner," she says, her hair under the stream. I sigh.

"No mom. I don't," I say. She doesn't answer. I grab the shampoo and pour it onto her hair once the water has removed most of the chunks. I rub it it until I'm sure there's none left then rinse.

"Hayner?" she asks quietly. I turn off the water.

"What mom?" I ask. I reach for the towel.

"My head hurts," I begin to towel dry her hair, pausing at these words. I can't help it. She sounds so lost.

"I'll get you something for it in a minute mom okay?" I say reassuringly, patting her hair with the towel. She turns to face me, a drunken smile upon her face. Her hand reaches out and cups my face.

"Your sso good to me" she whispers her eyes glazed over slightly. I look away. I wish I could say the same to her. But it would be a lie. I swallow the lump in my throat and place my hand round her waist, dragging her upright.

"Come on mom, let's get you to bed," I say. She doesn't answer, and I take it as a yes. She stumbles after me as I walk to her room, dragging her with me before lying her down on her bed. She reaches out to me and I grab her hand, placing it by her side.

"Hayner?"

I ignore her, turning off the light and shutting the door. I collapse against it. She'd promised. She'd promised she'd stop drinking. I should have known that six years as an alcoholic didn't vanish over night, but something inside of me hoped, just hoped that when she'd promised, she'd actually been been telling the truth.

I stand, and rub my eyes with my sleeve. I'm not crying. Because I'm a boy. Boy's can't, don't and won't cry. They were just kind of itchy that's all.

I reach for my phone automatically before remembering that there would be no point. Roxas was busy. Of course hanging out with that new boy was more important then hanging out with his best friend of seven years. I'd be stupid to think not. I mean I've only known him for most my life and he's known that red-head for a month. No comparison really. Boyfriends obviously come before bestfriends. When I get a boyfriend I'll keep that in mind.

My other options are also busy. With each other. I have no one to call, no one to talk to so I decide to do something else to take my mind off the fact my mother is lying, drunk and incoherent, feet away from me.

I make my way into the kitchen, eyeing the army of empty bottles lined up along the counter. I count them. There's seven. The worst is 40%. That's good. She normally has Absinthe. Roquette 1797, a personal favourite.

I grab each bottle, one at a time, and drop it from a rather substantial height into the bin. The sound of the glass smashing is quite satisfactory.

Reaching into the cupboard, I pull out a glass. It's dirty and I contemplate just leaving it. She wouldn't notice...no. That would be cruel. I clean it, dry it and pour in some water. I can't give her any painkillers, she's still too drunk. I worry sometimes, if giving her advil after she drinks does her more harm then good. I read somewhere that it can cause the stomach to bleed...

I shake my head. No point in thinking of that now. I grab the glass, spilling some over the edge, the water hitting my fingers. I ignore it and open the door to her room. She's still lying there, fully clothed, tangled beneath the covers, her hair forming some sort of wet, obscene halo around her head.

I place the glass on her bedside with a thunk. She doesn't wake. I leave. It's not like she'll miss me.

After a few moments thought, I decide to go shopping. We need some bread...and milk. And a new light bulb. And a new window. And carpets. Flat. Life.

Well I can get the bread and milk anyway. Maybe the light bulb too if I'm lucky. Which I'm not.

I scrawl a barely legible note telling her where I am. It's not like I expect her to wake up in time to read it, but I feel like I have to do it anyway. It makes me feel more...normal.

I grab some money from the pot in the kitchen, shove it into my jeans and walk into my room.

It's a pretty boring room as far as rooms go. I've not got any posters and the walls are light blue. The carpets grey and burned in various places and the only things of any actual colour are my mirror, my struggle bat and my skateboard. I'm quite proud of my mirror. I somehow managed to scrounge picture of me and Roxas, Olette and Pence together. They're stuck clumsily, with tape, but I don't care. I like it how it is.

I grab my skateboard and walk out, locking my door behind me. From past experience, having your room wrecked by your mother on a regular basis makes locks a god-send.

I walk out the front door, locking it behind me, noticing for the first time that my hand smell distinctly of vodka and vomit. I can't do anything about it though, so I walk down the steps of my flat and jump onto my board.

I think I would just about die without my skateboard. It's practically become a third foot to me. Sometimes, when it all gets to much for me, when the fact that I am looking after my _mom _sinks in and I really need to talk but no one's really available, I just skate. Hit the ramps and rails. Funny that, ever since Roxas started dating that red-headed prick and Pence and Olette staring dating..well, each other, I've been skating a lot more then I used to. Hell, I'm practically a regular at the park now. Not as popular there though ever since I refused to drink. Enough of that at home thanks, I came here to forget. I didn't say that obviously. Just said I didn't drink. That's almost like admitting your gay to these people. They act like I tried to kiss them.

I see the store approaching and look round to see if there's anyone nearby. There's not. I smile slightly in anticipation of what I'm going to do.

I angle my right foot on the board, sliding my left on the centre of the tail. I ollie, flicking my foot, causing the board to spin in mid air. I land back on the board, jumping onto the curb slightly flushed, a dizzy smile on my face. Who knew a kickflip could cheer you up so much?

Still smiling, I slow to a stop, kicking my board into an upright position. Yeah, I'm just that awesome.

I speed up as I walk into the store. I don't particularly want to be kicked out for carrying a skateboard, so I decide to just avoid being seen. Not the best of plans considering how many members of staff are working there and how large the skateboard itself is, but the best I can go on.

I reach the bread and grab the cheapest loaf. It's all the same to me, and it's not like my mother's going to complain. I walk past the rows or alcohol without a second glance, instead heading towards the milk. I grab semi skimmed. I'll be the only one drinking it so...

Damn. I realise that I have to pay. Holding my skateboard. I decide I don't really care, and walk to the nearest cashier and begin glaring, like I dare him to say something. To his credit he doesn't flinch. He merely gazes at me, a casually bored expression on his face like being glared at is a regular occurrence. It probably is.

"That'll be 6.98 please," he says, hand held out. I curse inwardly. Since when was bread and milk so god-damn expensive? I hand him a tenner and pocket the change, before shoving the bread and milk hastily into my rucksack. So what if it gets squashed? It'll still be edible. I mutter thanks to the cashier and walk out awkwardly, my board hitting against my leg almost painfully with each step.

I take a breath as I step through the sliding doors, dropping my board and stepping onto it. I feel free, the street blurring as I passed, the air hitting my face and hair so fast my lips began to dry.

I close my eyes for just a second.

And find myself strewn across the street as I come to hit something very hard and very human,

"Fuck," I mutter, sitting up and grabbing my abused head. I look up only to see...oh it's him.

"Watch it lamer,"

Seifer. Of course it was him. It was almost cliché. Who's Seifer? Only the hottest prick I've ever met. I'd date him if I didn't hate him so much. And vice versa. The hate part anyway. There's absolutely no way he likes me. Everyday I see him. Everyday he is a _complete _asshole to me. Everyday he talks down to me, berates me, insults me, makes me want to _kick various objects..._

"...are you even fucking listening?"

I blink.

"What?" I say, glaring up at him. He shakes his head angrily, his beanie slipping slightly with the movement. I watch as he rams it back down onto his head.

"I _said _that you should skate at the fucking park, not on public streets. Are you deaf or something lamer?" he said, snarling. It was at this point that I realised two things.

1. The bread is definitely crushed.

2. I'm still lying on the ground.

These thoughts are interrupted by the presence of a fist...no wait a hand shoved in my face. I flinch automatically and stare questioningly at it.

"Just fucking take it," I look to see Seifer glaring down at me. Taking into consideration the fact he was in a position to smash my face in, I did as he said, finding my self pulled abruptly to my feet.

"Thanks," I mutter looking away. He scoffs.

"You're like a woman," he said. I look at him.

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" I question him. He smirks.

"Your light. And small. Like a woman," he said matter-of-factly. I sneer.

"Shut up. Just because your overly tall," I said. I could have done better. I left my self wide open...

"Your just short," ...for that. I sigh.

"Seriously, shut up. Don't you insult me enough at school? Get your kicks some place else," I say, with finality, and make to grab my board. He laughs. I straighten.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"Go get your kicks some place else? Like I'd get kicks from you chicken-wuss. You just happen to be convenient when I want to hit something," he said, smirking. My glare intensifies.

"Go and hit a wall, I've heard it's good for you," I say. There's a silence and I think he's shut up. I'm wrong.

"Where's your friends? I thought you were their bitch or something," I'd like to know that too...

"You sound like your speaking from experience. Where's your bodyguards, forgot to pay them this month?" I say angrily. He just had to mention that didn't he.

"For the last time, they're not my fucking bodyguards," was that a twitch on Seifer's face?

"For the last time, I'm not their bitch," I say, grabbing my board and preparing to skate.

"Huh. Then why else are they hanging out with you? Not like you got anything to offer..."

I hit him. It really hurt. I learnt two things then. One, Seifer had a face like freaking steel. And two, he had a fist like freaking steel. The second one was just reaffirming that fact, I'd felt it many times before.

I knew he was going to hit me when he swung his fist back, so I really should have moved. To be honest I think I wanted to be hit. Don't ask why. It's all too phychological for me to think about. Next thing I knew he struck me. I swear I could hear the crunching between his knuckle and my cheek bone, and my head swung back so fast I practically had whip lash. I'm once again on the floor, and this time I knew he won't be helping me up. I glare up at him, in slight disbelief. His face isn't even hardly marked, just a red patch across his cheek. My own cheek feels like it's on fire. I think the bread may not be bread anymore, just crumbs.

"That all you got?" I say, in an idiotic act of bravado. Who actually said those kind of things?...apparantly I did. I don't know what I was expecting him to do, but let's just say I wasn't entirely surprised when he grabbed me by my T-Shirt. I was slightly surprised when he pulled me eye level to him, my feet almost dangling, toes barely touching the floor. I do the only thing I can do. Stare back at him.

In those thirty seconds I learn many things. I learn that Seifer's eyes are actually quite pleasant to look at. I learn that his facial feautes are all quite nicely symetrical. And I learn that the milk carton in my bag has been crushed to the point of bursting and is trickling out and down my back and legs. Seifer seems to notice this as well and drops me. He says something, but I don't catch it.

Well this is just great. I rip open my bag grabbing the offending item and throwing it to the floor all the while cursing under my breath.

".._piece of shit, now I have to buy_ _another fucking carton.." _I stamp on it _"...can't afford it for fuck sake..."_

I stop only when I realise that Seifer is watching me with an unusual facial expression. I give it one last kick and sigh, picking up my dampened bag and shouldering it. I turn to face him angrily.

"Thanks," I bite sarcastically. He looks slightly taken back by my behavior. Well let him be.

"Chill lamer. Just buy another one," he said, scowling. I grit my teeth.

"Oh? Just buy another one? That the answer to everything? And what if I can't _buy another one" _I hiss. He glares at me. I glare back.

"And why," he leans in "the fuck," even closer "not,"

I jump back slightly. It's not like I can say 'oh I can't afford it because my mother has spent the benefits, yes benefits money on drink of various potency'. I was tempted. Just to see his reaction. But when I think about it, I really don't want to give him any blackmail material.

"The shops are closed," I say after a pause. He looks at me suspiciously and I glare back.

"Shouldn't of walked into me then, should you chickenwuss," he spat. I shrug.

"Shouldn't have gotten in the way then, should you dick," I hiss, turning and jumping onto my board, only to find myself yanked off.

"Don't skateboard on a public street," Seifer says, condescendingly. I bite my lip angrily.

"All streets are public," I say. He smirks.

"Exactly. Now walk. As much as I relish the idea of scraping you off the wheels of a car, it's my duty as head of the Twilight Disciplinary Committee to help everybody, even if they are complete losers," he says. I roll my eyes. I wonder what he really would do If I got run over. Probably laugh.

"Fine then. I'll walk," I say, leaping on to my board. I ignore his cursing and flip him the middle finger grinning, turning to face him for a split second. I catch a look of his face. It's a mix between anger, confusion and amusement. Deciding a repeat performance of before is not a particularly good idea, I face the front and keep my eyes on the road, bending my knees slightly. I pick up speed. The milk dampening my legs and back seems to be drying. I skate even faster, hoping for the wind to dry it completely.

I'm not exactly welcomed open arms when I arrive at the skate park. The self proclaimed 'hardcore skaters' glare at me as I skate in. Just because I don't drink and emo music isn't my life. I like music. Love it even. But I don't limit myself. I have more genres then artists on my mp3. Classical, reggae, metal, rave. You name it, I listen to it. Of course I listen to 'emo' music. I just happen to like more then that. James Newton Howard's 'Flying' speaks to me more then My Chemical Romance if I'm honest. But that's just me.

They don't see it that way, and as I arrive an almost eerie silence follows me. I ignore that. I'm here to skate, not to socialise. I position myself at the top of the ramp. And I'm gone. I'm no longer there. Sure I can hear the wheels spinning, feel the wind hit my hair almost painfully. But I'm not there. I'm really not. I'm not thinking per say. That would involve thoughts on my mother, and that's really not a good subject to be honest.

There's this feeling I get when I skate. Like when you ride a roller coaster. You can't help but smile, grin like an idiot even. You're so excited, your heart's beating so fast and you just want to clench your hands and punch the air at the bubble of happiness which wells up inside you. That's how I feel when I skate. And that's not even the half of it. Sure, in struggle matches there's something similar. There's adrenaline (especially when I'm against a larger opponent), excitement, but not to this extreme level. No. This is different.

"Still listening to that shit?"

I stop. The feeling subsides slightly, but I can't help the smile still on my face. I must look weird, smiling at him after he's just insulted. Well let him think that. I don't care.

"Yeah, what of it?" I say. I really shouldn't have answered truthfully to the 'what music do ya like?' question. It's not like I owed them the truth.

"It's shit, that's what of it," my smile falters. The feeling's leaving me. Instead I glare at him. He'd be alright looking if you could see more of his face.

"That's your opinion," I say "which in _my_ opinion, is fucked up,"

I don't stay to see his reaction. Instead I grab my board and go. The feelings leaving even quicker now, especially with the fact I'm going home. To my mom. Who is likely still drunk.

I open the door. There's no point being quiet. Locking it behind me I drop my skateboard and bag. Although my combats are sticky and almost dry, stiffening slightly, my bag is still completely wet. I walk to the kitchen, an uncomfortable act in itself, pulling off my clothes quickly and shoving them in the wash. I sieve through the clean washing and pull out a clean T shirt and pair of combats. They're both green. It's not like I love the colour green. It's just that my wardrobe seems to consist of allot of green, and people just presume I like it. Whatever. Let them think that.

I wonder what Roxas is doing, right about now. Actually, maybe not. It likely involves that prick, Axel. I see enough of them getting it on at school thanks. My head needs a break. Still, I still wonder. So I do the smartest thing you can do in this day and age. I ignore the fact he's probably busy. I phone him. I wait, my slight anger at being abandoned by my best friend growing on each ring.

_ring_

I'm his best friend...

_ring_

...he promised he'd pick up when I call...

_ring_

...he knows about her...

_ring_

...but no, he'd rather spend all his time fucking that...

"This is Roxas, sorry I'm not here, I'll...er...call you back or something,"

_beep._

I knew it was a stupid thing to do as soon as it slipped from my fingertips and smashed into the wall. Throwing your phone at a wall is not the best of ideas, especially when you can't afford a new one. I watched as it shattered, the screen smashing and the back flying off. I just watch it for a few seconds, feeling slightly numb. Then I crawl over and pocket the sim, salvaging what little I could.

"Hayner?" I snap my head up at the noise. She's standing there, her head peaking round the door. If anything she looks worse then when I left her. I swallow.

"Yeah mom?" I ask, feeling slightly nervous.

"What was that noise?" her voice sounds like sandpaper being crunched together, and it's all I can do not to wince.

"Nothing mom...I...er...dropped a plate," I say, hoping she'll buy it. It shows how much she drank when all she did was nod and shuffle back into her room. I sigh heavily with relief. Last thing I want is her screaming at me right now. Meantime I gather my various phone parts and bin them. They're useless to me now. I keep the sim though. I may need it.

Turns out the bread _was crushed _beyond repair. I kept it anyway and put it in the almost empty cupboard. Ruining my hands through my hair I turn off the kitchen light and head into my room. I can't resist the urge when I go past my wardrobe, to open it and pull out the single object which ruined my life. A tie. It's red, with small yellow flowers dotted randomly across it. All in all it's hideous.

I mean it's pretty morbid in the first place. How many people keep the tie their father hung himself with? Apparently I do. I used to talk to it. Shout at it. Ask why the fuck it had done this to her, to us, why the fuck he'd decided that **_death_** was a better choice rather then_ living with his wife and **only child.**_

Yeah, feel free to laugh. Talking to inanimate objects is a little crazy I guess. I realised it didn't do anything anyway. Was going to throw it away. I didn't. Just kept it hanging in my wardrobe as a reminder. I should burn it one of these days. I'm not ready yet though...not just yet.

I hang it back in my wardrobe, I can't help but run my fingers over it one last time before I close the door. It's silk, cold. I shut the door.

I think it reminds me. Reminds me not to follow in his footsteps. Not the suicide thing. I'm sure as hell not suicidal. Just it reminds me not to give up on her. Not to betray her like he did.

I close my eyes. I think of anything but my wardrobe and my mom's room. I think of the struggle match I have next week. Seifer's playing in it. Maybe I'll get to fight him. It's Friday tomorow. School. I'll get to see Roxas. See I'm good at this. Not thinking...

tbc.

Review? Thoughts? Suggestions? Any major mistakes/inconsistencies?

I needed to vent so I decided to write an angsty fic...it was supposed to be short, but after planning this monster out I've realised (yet again) I have started an epic multi chapter...well anyhow, there's a taster of what is going to come...I call it a taster, because my chapters are normally abnormally long. But now you have a small insight into Hayner's home life :)...but it's only first chapter...

Which means I need to get typing...

I need a beta to be perfectly honest...someone who will help me keep them in character and all that jazz...any offers??...I'll love you??

Oh and note: I don't know where Hayner's from. I'm English, so easy option would be English, but Hayner sounded so much better saying 'mom' then 'mum'...hence the reason I don't mention currency :D coughavoidancetacticcough

Next chapter: Hayner's eventful school day ¬_¬ ...sound interesting? No. Well this is the chapter where the _actual plot _will begin (kind of) :D


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings: language, homophobia, boyxboy relationship/s.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything on this page other than the plot.

Thankyou to FinalFallenFantasy for beta'ing this monster *hugs*

* * *

I wake up early. Not too early, just half an hour, It's lucky when I think of it: my phone/alarm is officially dead. And the likelihood of my mom being coherent enough to think of waking me? Slim. Very slim. Almost nonexistent. Dragging myself out of bed, I yawn, stretching my arms up until I can hear the joints pop. Yeah, it's disgusting. I don't really care. I hate wandering round in night-gear; it feels sweaty and sticky and just plain wrong. So I change into some more decent clothing. Camouflage combats and a black T-shirt. I sling a short sleeved jacket over the top; the weather's too hot for anything more. I'd feel… well, naked with anything less on, though.

"Fuck," I swear as I see my bag, still sitting in the hallway. Apparently I forgot to clean it, so now the milk will have dried and the freaking thing will smell like cheese. Not a good thing, let me tell you. I pick it up gingerly, tipping the stiff books onto the floor and walking with it into the kitchen, dropping it in the sink. I'm not going to throw it away - that would be a complete waste. I'll wash it later. I sigh. Guess I'll have to use the only other bag I own. My shoulder bag. Yes I'm gay, but I don't want to scream it. Plus that Axel prick will mention it, I know.

I turn at the sound of shuffling. She's standing there, one slipper on (hence the shuffling noise), her hair messy and knotted around her face. Her eyes are still bloodshot, but when she sees me she manages a smile. I wish she didn't. I can see from where I'm leaning against the counter, clear as day, that her lips are chapped and splitting.

"Hey honey," she says. Her voice is beyond hoarse.

"Hey mom," I reply, a steely touch to my voice. She's not drunk anymore. I don't have to baby her as much. And I'm angry. She seems to sense my hurt and sighs, slouching into the only chair available.

"I promised, didn't I?" she mumbles, head in hands. I grit my teeth.

"Yeah. Yeah you did, Mom," I say tersely. There's a short silence.

"I'm sorry?" it almost sounds like a question.

"No mom. You're not,"

It's true. She isn't sorry. She sighs.

"I tried, you know,"

"Yeah, I know," that is true. She did try. She always does. Just not hard enough.

"I just...I remembered," she's almost whispering. I have to strain my ears to hear. "I wanted to forget, Hay. I just wanted to forget." Don't you always? Isn't that always the reason?

"Yeah, I get that mom," I grip the counter. "But why did you promise, then?" I ask. She peeks at me through her fingers. Her nails are bitten and chewed.

"Because I thought I could keep it," she says, a hint of anger in her voice. She straightens.

"Mom..."

"Did you buy any milk?" she cuts me off. I nod my head.

"Yeah… but it burst on the way home." I tell her. Her eyes narrow.

"How did that happen?" she asks. I shrug.

"Fell off my skateboard." Near enough to the truth. Her eyes widen.

"Are you okay, Honey?" she asks. I nod and wince as her eyes begin to fill with unshed tears.

"Mom...it's okay," I sigh, sensing the beginnings of a breakdown, walking over to where she's sat and wrapping an arm around her.

"No it's not! I'm fucking useless." she begins to shake. _Yes, you are_.

"No you're not, mom. You're...er...great." _great at getting drunk_.

"I couldn't ask for any more." _I_ _wouldn't get anymore, that's why_.

"Really?" she looks up at me, sniffing.

"Yeah," _no_.

She smiles, and suddenly all that lying seems perfectly fine.

"Well that being the case, let's make some breakfast!" she says, standing. She stumbles slightly, but rights herself, walking over to the cupboard and grabbing a glass, filling it with tap water. I watch as she reaches into the drawer and grabs the painkillers, snapping one out and downing it with water.

"Hayner honey, where's the bread?" she enquires, her voice raw.

"There," I point to the cupboard, where the squashed loaf lies.

"What the hell did you do to it?" she asks angrily. I shrug lightly.

"It got squashed when I fell off my board." I say. Her gaze turns apologetic.

"Sorry..." she says. Again.

"It's okay." _Don't do it in the first place then_.

"I guess we won't have breakfast then," she says, sighing, running a hand through her hair, wincing at the tangles. I nod.

"That's fine. I'll pick something up on the way to school." Not true. "..and I'm sure Roxas will lend me some lunch." Now, that is true. I've come to love his mother's tuna sandwiches over the years.

"Well that's good," she says brightly. I smile slightly at her.

"Mom, can you set the washing off today?" I ask, praying she'll remember. She nods.

"Of course honey. I was planning on doing that anyway." Yeah right.

I nod, and walk to my room, grabbing the books on the way and laying them on my carpet before diving under my bed to grab the offending item which some may call a 'bag'. There's nothing wrong with shoulder bags as such. But when said shoulder bag has a rainbow strap, it pretty much alerts everyone within viewing distance of my sexuality, which is private, thank you very much. Stupid Roxas bought it as a 'coming out present'. Who the hell buys 'coming out' presents anyway?

I sigh, opening it and shoving the books in. Great. They also smell of cheese. I reach over to my bedside, grabbing my spray and spraying a decent amount into my bag, coughing slightly. Now they not only smell of cheese, but lynx chocolate as well (another present, courtesy of Roxas who told me I need all the pulling power I can get).

I shoulder my multicoloured monstrosity and exit my room.

"Bye mom!" I shout. No answer. I peer around into the kitchen. She's sitting, staring at the table.

"Hmm?... Oh, bye Hayner, honey." she says, appearing to barely notice me. Looks like the washing won't get done today. I leave the house, shutting the door loudly and half leaping down the steps. It's quite sunny and the air is clean so I smile slightly. Then I remember I'm a boy who doesn't appreciate those types of things, and quickly turn my smile into a scowl, stepping onto my board and pushing off in the general direction of my school.

It's not a great school I go to. Firstly the name. Twilight High. Could two words be any less original? Not to mention the people that actually go there. Bunch of homophobic, racist and generally prejudiced bastards. I mean, not all of them. Some of the people who go are alright. Roxas and such. And it's not like they can do anything major. There's never been any cases of anyone being beaten to the point of unconsciousness for being gay. It's all for different reasons. The fights aren't serious. I mean, Seifer and I fight all the time. It's never dead serious. At least I don't think so...

My glare deepens as I see the building approach. Great. I skate up, avoiding the random students who, for some reason, are standing outside chatting, and head to the steps, propping my skateboard up with my foot. I grab it and walk through the doors, heading towards my locker. I pass various people on the way, but I don't really know them, as such, so I don't particularly talk.

I see my locker and smile as I see the person standing next to it. Roxas in all his hair-gelled glory.

"Hey," I say, waving with my free hand, before opening my locker and jamming my board in with a thud. He turns around.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" he says, raising an eyebrow and leaning back against his locker. My phone? Oh...

"It got broken." I reply evasively, shutting my locker and locking it. He looks suspicious.

"Dropped it in the sink," I hope I sound truthful. If I tell him I threw it at a wall he'll ask questions I'm really not in the mood to answer. He finally nods. Then his eyes widen slightly. And he smirks. That was when I knew he noticed it.

"So you've finally decided to appreciate my gifts?" he asks, flashing a toothy grin. I glare.

"Shut up...I had no choice," I object defensively, crossing my arms. The smirk remains.

"Uh huh. No choice. Yeah, I believe you," he says in a voice which tells me anything but. His eyes narrow slyly.

"Whatever," I say, reaching over and ruffling his hair. He bats my hand, sly look turning to a glare.

"Stop that,"

"No, I don't think I will," I say. He shoves my hand away and I laugh. I watch as people begin to flood the corridors, ignoring the strange looks at my bag. It's my bag (unfortunately) and I'll wear it if I want (or if I'm forced to). I hear a yelp, and turn to see Roxas, long hands snaking around his stomach. Ah, the prick arrives.

"Well if it isn't my Roxie… flirting with another man I see?"

I watch as the redhead leans in, his head parallel with Roxas' ear. I tense my hand and cheer silently as he elbows the prick.

"Personal space," Roxas says, not even turning round, a bored expression on his face. He sends me a sheepish grin and I smile back out of politeness.

"Doesn't exist when I'm around babe." the prick said, swinging his arm around the blonde's shoulders. He then seemed to notice me. And my bag.

"Finally decided to come out then, Hay-Hay?" he asks. Grinning. I scowl.

"It's Hayner, and this was a gift. From your boyfriend actually. Your gifts will be of equal good taste." I say, leaning back against the lockers in what I hope is a suave move.

"I think my gifts are a little more...below the belt if ya get me." he smirks, licking his lips. Oh. I definitely 'get' him. Hence the reason I want to punch him.

"Shut up." Roxas says. "And there's nothing wrong with my presents." I can't help but notice the very prominent blush across his face. And the fact that his second elbowing, following this statement, wasn't nearly as sharp as the first. Fortunately, the bell breaks me from my musings.

I walk next to them on the way to class, very much aware of the fact that I am a third wheel, entirely unwanted as they whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears. I look at my feet, watching as they lightly scuff the floor, ignoring the second bout of laughter from my best friend. As we enter the classroom, I head to my seat. The one where I now sit alone. It used to be me and Roxas, but no, not anymore. That prick _Axel_ has the privilege of sitting beside my best friend now. Leaving just me, myself and moi.

I look around me as I walk to my desk. Roxas and Axel sit in front of me, Seifer behind. Trust him to want a whole desk to himself. I look up at Leon, our English teacher. He's lying back in his chair, waiting for silence. As soon as he gets it, he's off.

"Homework."

There are collective groans, mine included.

"You have a week's holiday to complete it, I don't know what you're complaining about." he growls. We shut up, sharpish. He sits up straight in his seat.

"You're going to be doing a presentation when you get back, on anything you like. Just stand up here and say a few words, I forgot to mark your last speaking test and apparently it's 'necessary'." he bunny quotes the word.

"Some of you need this grade more than others." he doesn't have to stare so pointedly at _me _"and you're going to be doing it in pairs,"

I look immediately at Roxas...who is looking at Axel. Pence and Olette? I look over at them on the off chance that they're not together. They are.

"Just go with whoever you're sat next to." Leon continues. He seems to notice me staring questioningly at him and sighs loudly to show he acknowledges my pain.

"And Hayner go with...er..." he looks around, his eyes coming to rest directly behind me "Seifer." I immediately glare at him, out of habit more than anything.

"I'm with Vivi." I turn to see the beanie clad boy pointing to the short boy in question.

"Not anymore." Leon says, whipping out a whiteboard pen and uncapping it with his teeth, simultaneously gesturing for Vivi to find another partner. Seifer finally seems to realise I am staring directly at him and glares.

"What?" he growls. I mutter 'nothing' and turn around to see the artistic scribble currently scrabbling across the board. From what I can see it reads 'What I like'. I sigh. I see exactly where this is going. And sticking me with Seifer. Could this be getting anymore cliché? At this rate I'll end up falling in love with the guy... unlikely.

"Your project is, surprise, surprise, to be on something you like, or like doing," Leon says, tapping the board sharply, a bored expression on his face.

"Like...basketball, y'know?" I turn to see Rai, one of Seifer's bodyguards. He's sitting next to what's her name. Fuu, that's it. I think they're dating.

"Yes, basketball could be considered a hobby. But your project either has to be on something you're both passionate about, or done in a way to incorporate both of your chosen subjects." Leon says. I try to tune out the redheaded prick's thoughts on what their project could be about. I think I distinctly hear the words 'car' and 'ice cream' and to be perfectly honest I'd rather not know.

"Discuss. Now." Leon orders, vaguely gesturing. Chatter fills the classroom.

"Hayner." I start and look up at Leon. He points behind me.

"Go and join your partner." I scowl and pick up my bag from the floor. I sit on the spare seat and come face to face with that irritating boy's amused expression.

"You're lookin' pretty colourful today, chickenwuss," he smirks. I narrow my eyes.

"Shut. Up. It was a _gift, _how many times do I have to say this?" I snap, probably sounding as exasperated as I feel. If anything his smirk grows.

"Don't say anything." I growl. He seems to take a hint. Awkward silence.

"So..." he says. I'm shocked. He initiated a conversation. I wait for him to continue.

"What should we do it on, lamer?" he asks, shrugging slightly. I ignore the taunt and think.

"Struggle?" I say after as short pause. We both like it, I know that. He shakes his head.

"Nah, everyone knows about that, loser. Bet you at least three people do it." he says, resting his elbows on the desk. His arms really are defined... _Stop that!_ I mentally slap myself.

"Then what?" I say, slumping in my chair slightly. He shrugs. I think. What do I like?

"...skateboarding?" I suggest slowly. He shakes his head.

"Know nothing about it," he says. I sigh angrily.

"Then what do you like?" I ask. He shrugs. I wasn't expecting an answer.

"Filming?" he says after a short pause. I must have looked as shocked as I felt, as he immediately began to glare.

"What, like with a camera?" I ask. He rolls his eyes.

"No, with a fork. Of course with a camera, you fucktard," he says condescendingly. I snarl. There's an awkward silence.

"So...you like filming stuff?" I say, grinning impishly.

"So what?" he snaps angrily. And was that an uncomfortable expression that just flashed across his face?... He obviously understood my innuendo, choosing to ignore it.

"Nothing," I say. "Except for the fact that you're an idiot." I end matter-of-factly. I hold up a finger before he opens his mouth.

"Because," I continue pointedly, "We can still do skateboarding," I finish, feeling slightly triumphant. He looks vaguely confused.

"What, you mean I film you?" Bingo.

"Yeah. Then we both win." I say. He still looks sceptical.

"Film you skateboarding?" he asks. I nod.

"Do you have any idea how long that will take, loser?" I shrug. He sighs.

"Filming itself will take days to get it right, plus each scene will need to be filmed more than once at various angles," I blink. He sighs again. I think my lack of filming knowledge may be annoying him. Tough luck. I can't afford a camera.

"...not to mention the time it will take to edit." he finishes. I just nod.

"What are you going to film? A compilation of tricks?" I ask. He seems shocked by the fact that I just said 'compilation'. Yeah, I know big words. What a surprise. Just because I don't often say them doesn't mean I don't know them.

He nods.

"Yeah. Might as well." he says. I can tell beneath his cool facade he's getting into it though.

"We won't have to say much either, then." I muse "The film'll speak for itself."

He nods again.

"Where though, lamer?" he enquires, leaning back in his chair.

"What, the filming?" I blink. He gives me a withering look, which I fondly return. I think about the question though.

"Hmm, how about the skate park? That's normally where people skate, idiot." I mutter, just loudly enough for him to hear. He glares and I grin.

"When do you wanna do it?" he asks. I freeze for a moment, letting the words wash over me. I remind myself that they're _not _supposed to be suggestive. I seem to take too long, as Seifer quickly corrects himself.

"I mean the filming. Where do you wanna do the, er, filming, loser?" he says. I could swear he's blushing, but he looks away too fast for me to be sure.

"Tomorrow?" I say. He looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Saturday?" he says. I nod, narrowing my eyes.

"Yeah, Saturday. Half twelve? Might as well, I haven't got anything else to do." I mumble the last bit, but I'm pretty sure he heard me. He doesn't say anything about it, surprisingly, and just nods.

"Okay." he says, almost quietly. I cock my head to the side. Surely he's got better things to do, hanging out with Fuu and Rai? I voice my opinion and he scowls.

"Yeah well I don't, lamer." Sensing a sore spot, I back off.

"I'm just askin'." I say, raising my hands slightly. He snorts.

"Well don't."

And that was when the civil conversation ended. I was almost pleased when the bell went. I'd had to spent a double lesson hosting conversation with the beanie boy and two whole hours being glared at and insulted. Now, of course, I remember why I'm really not looking forward to break so much.

"Coming, Hayner?" I look up to see Roxas, smiling slightly, the red-leech still clinging onto him. Prick. _Best friend stealer_. Hiding my glare at him, I shake my head.

"Nah, I'll wait for Pence and Olette. Meet you in there?" I can feel Roxas' suspicious look, but luckily he's quickly pulled away by his freak... er… boyfriend.

"Come on babe, they're selling pizza," Axel-prick says, holding his hand out and gesturing exaggeratedly toward the door like it's a beacon of light. I watch as Roxas sighs.

"Fine. Meet you there Hayner." He mumbles. I nod. He gave into the matter quite quickly, I think. He could have at least tried. I stand, watching as people pile out (all staring strangely at my bag) until Pence and Olette make their way over, hands linked. I smile.

"Hey," I greet them. They look a bit startled at me being there, but both smile back.

"Yo, Hayner. How's it hangin'?" Pence asks. I see him tighten his grip on Olette's hand. I keep smiling, though it's a little forced, I'm sure. We begin to walk.

"Yeah it's been okay." No it hasn't.

"How've you been?" I enquire politely.

"Oh it's been good. How come we haven't seen you around as much?" Olette asks. _Probably because you don't want me around_.

"I've been busy." _No I haven't_.

"Oh, well that's good." she says, smiling. My smile's turned kind of hollow.

"How have you_ two_ been then?" I say, emphasizing the 'two'. We reach the entrance of the dinner hall. I watch with slight amusement as they both blush simultaneously. You'd think they practice.

"Oh...we've been... er, fine. Great, even." Pence says, grinning at me. As much as I hate being abandoned, I can't help but feel happy for them. They look practically glowing; have done ever since they got together. No one expected it. Pence was like a brother to her. He obviously didn't see it that way.

We reach the hall and are greeted with the sight of Roxas waving slightly and Axel waving idiotically.

"Yo." he says as we arrive, doing this salute with two of his fingers.

"Hey." Roxas murmurs, biting into his sandwich. I feel my stomach twitch uncomfortably. He sees my longing stare and takes pity on me, wordlessly handing over a sandwich. I take it with a grin and a thumbs up, biting into it immediately, relishing the fishy goodness.

"How come you never share food with me?" I look up to see Axel whining. Roxas rolls his eyes.

"Because you have your own food." he replies. Axel scrunches up his eyebrows.

"Hay-stack doesn't have food?" he asks. I flinch slightly.

"That's not my fucking name." I growl out. I don't answer his question, instead biting back into the bread.

"I'll share food with you later, jeez." Roxas says, sounding aggravated. I can see the small smile on his face, telling me he's happy, though. And if Roxas is happy, I'm happy. Kind of.

"You're so good to me Roxie!" he says, grabbing Roxas around the middle tightly. I look away. Idiot. He's always been like this, ever since he met him. A whole three weeks ago. Walks in, like he owns the place, grinning like a pyro on fire and spewing this random shit. 'I'm Axel. Got it memorized?' Unfortunately yes.

I decide enough is enough.

"Hey, does anyone want to get ice-cream tonight?"

There is a silence where I note that they all share an awkward look with at least one person.

"Er...sorry, Hay, me and Axel are going to the cinema tonight." Roxas says, blushing. I think cinema may be code for something less innocent. Then again, nothing's innocent where Axel's concerned.

"Yeah man, sorry but me and 'Lette are having a movie night." Pence apologises. I blink.

"Okay then…" I say. I can remember when all I had to do was mention the words 'ice cream' and they'd all be in for it. When I was supposedly the fucking leader of this group. Guess things have changed.

"Oh, Hayner, I forgot to ask. How's your mom?"

I look up at Pence in shock. Why would he be asking that?

"Yeah, is she still ill?"

Oh yeah. I said she was ill. Right. I notice Roxas giving me a very pointed look and I find myself looking away.

"Er... yeah. She's a lot better now." _Liar_.

"That's good." Pence says, smiling, biting into his cob.

"Yeah. That's very good." Roxas says dryly. I glare at him.

"Yeah it is," I say, with equal dryness.

"Uh, I think I'm missing something." I glare at Axel-prick.

"Nothing." I say, same time as Roxas. My life is turning into one big freaking cliché after another.

The bell rings. I stand up and grab my bag.

"Wassup with your bag?" I glare at Pence.

"Nothing. It was a freaking gift." I say, ignoring Roxas' sniggers. Pence looks at me strangely.

"For what?" he asks. My coming out, supposedly.

"My birthday. It was a _joke_." I say pointedly looking at the gift buyer in question, who is hiding his smirk behind his sleeve.

"Aw come on, you love it really." he says. I glare.

"Yeah Rox, I love it. I can barely contain my utter worship for the thing. Be still, my beating heart." I say, mock monotone, breaking into laughter at the end. He joins in and for one moment it feels like old times.

"Isn't that objecto-sexuality?" then Axel-prick decides to join in.

"Dude, I'm not shagging my bag!" I snap, looking affronted. Trust him to take it too far.

"Ooh...defensive." he says, wincing. He's hit by Roxas straight after.

"Act like a person please." he demands mockingly.

"Wound!" Axel-prick exclaims, clutching his chest dramatically. I laugh. I can't help it, it's pretty funny. I'm still laughing as we walk into the classroom and Cloud aka Mr Strife proceeds to give us evil looks.

"Please calm down." he says, pinching his nose. I know the signs well enough to know he's hungover.

"Tired sir?" I say instead, grinning as I take my desk. It goes to show how hungover he is when he manages only a weak glare.

"No Hayner, I'm grabbing my head for no apparent reason," he bites, grabbing his pen and neatly uncapping it. I watch as he writes the information on the board.

"Can everybody just sit down?" he asks, as more students pile in. I watch as they do, sitting in various places. Yet again I sit alone throughout this class. I take out my book and wince. The lynx chocolate seems to mask the smell slightly, but it doesn't help the fact that all the ink has run and dried. I raise my hand.

"Sir, I need a new book!" I inform him loudly. He doesn't turn around.

"Why." it sounded more of a statement then a question.

"Er..." what to say? 'I got milk on it' sounds stupid. "I...dropped it in the sea." Oh and that's a whole lot better. I watch as he pauses in his writing.

"And how did you manage that?" he speaks at last. I shrug, then realise he can't see me.

"It fell." he seems to leave it at that.

"In my drawer." he says. I stand and walk to the drawer, tearing a new book from the packaging. I realise then and there that I am going to have to do this in every lesson and stifle a sigh. It's all Seifer's fault. Prick. I clench my hand as I sit down, opening my new book harshly and reaching into my bag to grab a pen. I really need to write this down. Science isn't exactly one of my strong points. When I know the information I _know _it. It just takes me a while to learn it.

My hand is nearly falling off as I take down the last of the notes written on the board. It amazes me how one man can spend so much time talking about meiosis. I sigh as the bell rings, shoving my new book and pen into the rainbow-monstrosity. Let's just say I'm not particularly looking forward to lunch, or rather 'Axel-Roxas-make-out-time'. Watching that best friend stealing prick and my best friend feel each other up to the point of groaning whilst sitting on each other is not the way I would like to plan my lunch hour.

This, however is how it happens. I'm tempted to grab my ears and block out the sounds and giggling, but resist. It wouldn't be fair on Roxas (even though this isn't fair on me, Mr Single, in any way, shape or form).

"Ax-Axel stop it…" Yeah, Roxas will attempt to pry off the red leech, but the small smile reveals he likes it. And I _know_ he's gonna give in. Again.

"You know you like it though." The prick grins, stating the obvious. Roxas squirms out of his grip (it only took what? Ten minutes?)

"I don't think the _rest of the hall _appreciates it though." he says pointedly, glaring at the onslaught of stares cast his way. The red head makes a grab for him again.

"Screw them." he mutters lowly. I watch as Roxas rolls his eyes.

"I doubt even you'd have that much stamina." he informs his pri- boyfriend, deadpan.

My stomach grumbles slightly and I immediately grab it, attempting to look casual. Well, as casual as one can be whilst grabbing one's stomach. No one notices anyway. I wish I'd saved the sandwich now.

I bite my lip as Roxas gives in to the prick's advances. Clenching my hand, I stand abruptly. The happy couple doesn't notice. Pence gives me a 'look'. I shrug.

"Just going to the toilets." I mutter. He nods in understanding, and Olette smiles slightly.

"See you in a minute then." she says, and I can't help but smile back. It's contagious, what can I say?

I head to the toilets like I'm on a mission, ignoring everything and everyone. Walking in, it's empty and I sigh, relieved. God knows what I'd do if there was a crowd of boys in there, laughing, jeering. My bag would become a 'please kick the living shit out of me' sign. Thanks Roxas. You really look out for me.

I walk over to the sink and immediately proceed to splash my face. It doesn't do anything, but I've seen films, and the first thing they do in times of stress, where a sink is available, is splash their face with water and look meaningfully into the mirror. I think it's to wake themselves up, but all it does is make me feel wet. And slightly stupid.

I shake my head, hoping to dry it some before anyone walks in, rubbing my sleeve across my face. I sigh. At least I'd cooled down some. I'd been just about ready to punch that redheaded freak, and that would not have gone down well.

I leave, knocking shoulders with someone as I left. I don't check to see who it is, instead continuing down the corridor, stopping only when I hear a familiar voice.

"..the fuck did this?"

It was Axel prick. I push through the small circle and come face to face with a furious Axel and pissed off Roxas. Looking at the scene, I can't help but feel anger and my cooled down state reverts into one of hot fury.

_Faggot._

_Fairy._

_Queer._

Just a few of the words scrawled hastily across my best friend's locker. He looks up, seeming to see me.

"Hayner..." he sounds unsure, like he has no idea what I'm about to do next. Truth be told, neither do I. I want to go up to the homophobic fucker and rip his lungs out. But instead I start shouting.

"Who did this?" I look round, gesturing at the small crowd. Someone laughs quietly. I hear it. I turn, facing the boy and walk towards him, each step more of a stalk and grab his collar.

"Was it you? Did you do it?" I ask. He looks away. "Fucking _look at me!_" I hiss.

"Hayner, for fuck's sake!" I feel my arm grabbed and let the boy go. I wheel round to face Roxas.

"Leave it, just fucking leave it." he says through gritted teeth. I'm...slightly offended by that.

"You expect me to leave it? You think it's okay?" I ask, gesturing angrily at the locker.

"Look, I'm pissed as hell, but if Roxie says leave it, then fucking leave it." I hear Axel prick growl. I can see the barely contained anger, I can see the fact that he's as angry as me, probably more, but I ignore that. I walk up to him.

"Then you think this is okay then?" I ask. He narrows his eyes at me.

"Fuck. No." he says.

"Hayner..." I ignore Roxas's pleading.

"Then why don't you do something?" I shout shoving him. He shoves back and I skid backwards.

"_Because, _we don't even know who fucking _did it!" _he shouts, drawing himself up. I find I have no answer.

"...maybe if you didn't _molest _him at every place available, people would be less likely to _do this_." I growl, the words forming before I even think about it.

"You saying it's wrong then? That we should_ fucking hide it_?" Maybe I could have phrased that differently. I really should.

"Of course it's not wrong, but watching the two of you make out every five seconds is enough to piss anyone off." why am I saying this? Why the fuck am I saying this?

Safe to say I was expecting to be hit. I wasn't expecting Roxas to be the one doing it. For the second time in two days I felt my head whip back. I didn't fall over through, and physically it hurt a lot less.

It stung though. To have a real hit directed at you from your best friend hurt a lot more then you'd expect. When my head snapped back, my cheek on fire, it hurt. Especially considering that that was where I'd been hit by Seifer. It hurt. But to find my best friend, the one who'd helped me countless times, whom I'd called on the verge of breakdowns when my mother had gotten so bad, who had used to phone almost everyday just to talk about the most useless shit, to have my best friend be the one causing me physical pain (and yes, he meant it - I could feel it by how hard he'd punched). Yes, I know I shouldn't have said that. But to hit me? I can safely say I've never hit him once with any actual intent of hurting him.

If the pain from the punch had hurt any, the words that followed sealed the deal.

"Shut up." he was breathing heavily, fist clenched. Axel looked as shocked as I felt. "...Just fuck off, Hayner. I _don't _need your help...you're just embarrassing yourself,"

I walk forward towards him, hand out slightly.

"Roxas..." I say quietly, about to apologise. He turns, eyes ablaze. I literally feel my pulse in my throat, like I'd been running for miles.

"I said _fuck off." _

My heart drops. My face feels hot all of a sudden, and each breath I take is loud and quick. I close my eyes for about half a second, trying to block out the people surrounding me, then open them quickly. I turn, away from Roxas and Axel and shove my way through the crowd, ignoring the words I catch. I head to my locker, mere metres away, and as the crowd begins to leave I can feel Roxas' eyes on me as I grab my board and slam my locker shut. Fuck this. Fuck school.

So he didn't want my help. So I said things I shouldn't have said. He didn't let me fucking apologise. I feel so...betrayed. It's finally hit me. He really has chosen his boyfriend over me.

I wipe my sleeve across my eyes. Not because I was crying - I don't cry; I'm a boy and they don't cry. The sleeve was still wet though, from where I'd dried my face. Finally, the freaking doors. I walk through them, ignoring the shouts from Cloud as I jump onto my board and head along the road, leaving the school behind me. Even the feel of skateboarding isn't enough to stifle this feeling of utter betrayal. Go home? No. Not home. That's the last place I want to go right now.

So I turn and head for the beach. Why? I don't know. But it's the first place I can think of. Maybe because my head's so full of Roxas that I immediately conjure the one place we both go. I don't know. But I find myself ordering at the parlour, holding up two fingers in a peace sign at the man serving.

"Two sea-salt ice creams please." I say, my brain focusing on other things as I order my regular. He smiles slightly, handing me the ice-cream and I hand him the munny, nodding slightly as I walk out of the door. I find myself heading towards the sand, sitting down cross legged. Finally reverting my attention to the ice cream, I jolt slightly as I realise that I'm carrying two.

I know why. It's just a habit. There's always two. One for me, one for Roxas, taking it in turns to treat the other. I stare at the ice-cream in my hand, separating them so there's now one in each. I look at the one in my left hand, just look at it until my vision begins to blur and I realise I've been staring at it for too long. I sniff, bringing _my _ice-cream to my lips and licking my hand where it had melted slightly and dripped down. I lick it, my tongue savouring the sweet, yet salty, taste, ignoring the cold. I have to eat it. If I don't, it would be like letting that Axel prick win.

He'd win by default: he'd have succeeded in causing me misery, causing my lack of hunger and causing me to be unable to eat this fucking ice-cream. So I eat, until there's just a stick and the ice-cream in my left hand has almost fully melted, my hand now sticky and cold. I drop my own stick, ignoring the fact I'm littering. So. What? Nobody cares anyway.

I grab the other ice-cream stick and snap it. There. Snap. I drop it into the sand and stand, stabbing it with my heel, rotating it and crushing it into the soft ground. Stopping, I find myself breathing heavily, my shoulders up and hands tense.

I ignore the strange looks from other beach participants. Let them think I'm crazy. I don't know them. Wiping my hand on my combats, I give the beach one last look. The sun's setting. It would be beautiful if I were the kind of guy who liked that sort of thing, the way the colours run into one another, the purple hue hovering above the sea, the sun leaving a reflection on the waves... But I don't appreciate that kind of thing, so I head back to where I'd left my board and step on, skating back home. No. I can't call it a home. It's the opposite of a home, the very definition of what a home is not.

So I skate, as the sky darkens, my confusion growing as I head nearer to the flat, knowing my mother is likely to be still sitting at the table, staring into nothing.

I sigh.

There are so many fucked up things in my life now it's not even funny...

tbc.

review?

Like it? No? Tell me why ^_^

**Beta note: **XD Seifer really is talented if he can film with a fork…

When Hayner said it's his bag and he'll wear it if he's forced to, I suddenly imagined him singing 'It's my party and I'll cry if I want to!'

… My spell-checker thing changed 'fucktard' to 'mustard'. Hayner, you mustard!


	3. Chapter 3

Warnings: language, homophobia, boyxboy relationship/s, unbeta'd due to complications.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything on this page other than the plot.

To FinalFallenFantasy: I really hope your computer is fixed soon! (I know I would just about die without mine...can't imagine the anguish you're going through) but yeah, no pressure in beta'ing this, just let me know so I can replace this with the shiny version :D Thanks again!

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Chapter 3:

I wake up Saturday. I'm tired. No, beyond tired. I feel almost dead, the events of Friday seeping back into my brain. I just want to curl up under my covers and block it all out. I can't though. I'm supposed to be meeting Seifer at half twelve to start our...project. Safe to say I don't feel up to it.

She was drunk last night. Hammered. Surprise surprise. I'd expected it from how she'd looked that morning, lost and unsure. I'd been stupid enough to hope she wouldn't though. Yeah, that hope pretty much shattered when I found her. In the bathroom. Again. This time I didn't help her. Didn't hold her hair back, wash it, get her to bed. I let her get on with it, the anger rushing through me too much to bear at that moment in time.

I will myself to sit up in bed and drag a hand through my hair. It's knotted and greasy and I wince as my fingers are caught in the strands. I stand up, my head beginning to throb, and grab my clothes in one hand, heading to the shower.

One look around the bathroom sends a sharp sting of guilt. It's wrecked. The faint smell of vomit, still pungent, tells me all I need to know. That and the fact it's practically smeared over the bowl. I glance around at the knocked over bottles and sigh, dropping my clothes in a relatively 'clean' area and bending down to reach for the cloth. It's in the cupboard, and I pull out various cleaning equipment, noticing we're low on just about everything. Not surprising. I end up using it at least three times a week.

I scrub. I don't even really pay attention to what I'm doing, it's become second nature to me now. If I don't clean I can guarantee no one will. I pour the bleach into the cistern. I hope she's not to bad. I hope she hasn't hurt herself. The guilt grows. I should have helped her last night, even if I was feeling pretty down because of...Roxas. Another topic I wanted to avoid thinking about.

I finish, piling the cleaning products back into the small cupboard and shutting it carefully. I don't take long getting into the shower, my night gear has literally stuck to me like a second skin and I absentmindedly note to wash it.

It feels so good, the shower. I like them either hot or cold. Hot as in burning hot, so my skin becomes red raw and puffy. I have showers like these when I'm angry or dirty. And when I say dirty I mean all kinds of dirty. If I've done something wrong and just _feel _dirty, or If I genuinely am dirty. I like them ice cold at times when I just feel numb. Like when I can't bring myself to feel. Like when...

Nevermind.

My skin is bright pink when I step out the shower, and my hair still vaguely dirty. We couldn't afford decent shampoo, so I was stuck using shower gel on my hair (which can I just tell you is definitely _not _good for hair usage). Yeah my hair felt like it was just one big knot, but on the bright side it felt clean (though it most definitely wasn't). Maybe it was psychological or something. It felt more clean then before.

I dress in the bathroom. It's just a habit I guess. I hate being naked round the house, and just about anywhere really. Don't really know why. I don't exactly love my body if you catch my drift. That may have something to do with it.

Once I'm fully dressed (combats, T-shirt...I don't exactly have much to choose from) I make my way to the kitchen, passing the empty bedroom, and dreading the sight. I had good reason to.

She's slumped across the table, her hair covering her face, arms disjointed and uncomfortable, and empty bottle of whisky by her side. I never even knew she'd bought it. She looks up, and I wish she didn't. Wish she'd just kept her face on the table. It was pale, her lips pale, her skin pale. It looked like she'd just been white washed. Oh, but her eyes weren't pale. They were bloodshot, so much so it looked like they were bleeding.

"Hayner?"

Her voice cracks. I wince and look away, my eyes drifting over to the counter.

"Yeah mom?" I ask quietly.

"Could you fetch me a drink please honey?"

I don't even ask what kind of drink she means. I know she means alcohol. And I know I'm getting her a glass of water.

"Hayner?" she sounds confused as I hand her the glass.

"Just drink it mom. It'll make you feel better," I say. She nods, gulping it down. I sigh. She should have sipped it.

I glance at the clock on the wall. Half eleven. One hour before I have to be filmed falling over in various ways by a guy who undoubtedly hates my guts. Joy.

"Hayner honey, I'm gonna.." I watch as she stands up jerkily "..have...have a shower,"

I move forward, grabbing her elbow and steering her towards the bathroom.

"Okay mom," I say, opening the door and walking in with her.

"Just have a shower," I mutter, leaving to fetch a clean towel. Another thing I need to wash. I walk back to hear the shower running, and quickly fling the towel into the room, leaving the door ajar just in case.

It's not fair really. Having to look after her. That's her job. My friends, their parents do everything for them. Cooking, cleaning. Not in this house. It's the other way round. And it's suffocating me. It's why I spend as much time out as I can. It's why Friday hurt so much. Roxas knows. He knows this (well most of it). I don't want him to treat me differently because of it. I just thought...

I hear the shower stop and take my head out of my hands. I barely even noticed I'd put it there. I hear rustling sounds and hastily stand up, heading back into the kitchen. There's nothing to eat and my stomache's persistent growling is a constant reminder of this.

Sighing, I glance at my watch. It's twelve. I spent the last half hour babysitting my mother. They say time flies by when you're having fun. It does. Of course it does, when you're having fun time is irrelevent. You never want it to end. And that's fine. See, time also 'flies by' when you're on autopilot. When you're not thinking. That's also fine. It's _not _fine when you start thinking. Soon as you start thinking about things time begins to slow. Soon as you start hating on yourself it's as if time wants you to have as long as possible, just to make sure you're sufficiently self-loathed. It's true what they say I guess. Time is a killer.

I grab my bag, yet again cursing Roxas's idea of a joke. Roxas. I don't want to think about him. It hurt too much. As I reach the door I hear a faint call.

"Hayner?"

She's dressed herself I'll give her that. Shame her T-shirt is on inside out.

"Yeah mom," I sigh without much conviction.

"Where are you going?"

_Oh, so** now** you care._

"Out," _I don't have to elaborate with you._

"Where out?"

_You sound angry. What gives you the right to sound angry?_

"To meet some friends,"

_Friends. Yeah right._

"Why didn't you tell me?"

_Because you were drunk out your freaking mind._

"Because you were...busy,"

"Oh. Be careful,"

I watch as she slouches back into her room, one foot trailing behind the other and control my shaking. I don't know why I'm shaking, but I am. My hands are trembling. From anger. It has to be from anger. I'm so freaking angry at her right now I could kill something. Yeah.

I slam the door. She won't even notice, but it makes me feel better. Like I'm acting like a normal rebellious teenager, slamming doors and breaking curfew. Well, I would if I had a curfew. Why am I complaining? You probably think I'm dead lucky. No curfew, mom who doesn't care. It's exactly that. _She doesn't care._

I feel slightly better as the wind pulls at my hair. I always feel more relaxed skating. It helps me to calm down. And I really need to calm down considering who I'm about to meet.

I turn off into the park and check my watch. Oh no I'm five minutes late. If you couldn't already guess, that was sarcasm. I see Seifer standing off to the side by one of the ramps. He should have looked every bit out of place, standing with various camera equipment, but no. He fitted. Come to think of it I've never seen Seifer look out of place anywhere...

"Oi Lamer," I raise my head at the taunt, skidding to a halt and stepping off my board.

"What?" I ask, my eyes narrowing.

"Late," my eyes drift to the person who had just spoken, and narrow even further at who I saw (it was surprising I cold still see by how narrow they'd become). Fuu and her boyfriend, Rai. At least I think they're dating. Sure looks like it. They deserve each other from what I've seen. One who doesn't talk in sentences and one who constantly repeats the phrase 'y'know?'. And I mean constantly. Every lesson with him is torture.

"Yeah I'm late. Why are they here?" I ask Seifer, narrowing my eyes. I don't care if they hear me. I don't care if they hate me.

He leans in slightly, and I find myself stepping back automatically.

"Because they are. You gotta problem with that?" he growls. I roll my eyes at how mobster he is sounding.

"The only problem I have is with you," I glare witheringly at him, crossing my arms across my chest. He shrugs, moving towards the equipment and grabbing this strange...thing. He seems to notice my confusion and turns to face me, smirking.

"What, don't know what this is, lamer?" he asks. My face reddens slightly.

"I know what it is," I hiss, hoping he won't...

"Then what is it then?" ...ask me. I look away, haughtily.

"Like you don't know, " I say, tilting my head slightly, hiding my blush.

"You don't know what is is do you?" he says condescendingly.

"Shut up. I bet 'y'know' over there doesn't either," I huff, jabbing a thumb at Rai.

"It's a tripod, y'know?"

He just had to know didn't he. Rai, tall, muscular, dark, and with less brain cells then a mollusk, just _had _to know.

"Lamer," Seifer chuckles, smirking at me.

"Shut up," I'm just feeling so articulate today. My blush deepens as they laugh (why am I even blushing?). I'm mature though. I'm an adult. So I do the adult thing and flip them off, walking over to my board.

"It's so the camera is steady," Seifer continues, pointing to the contraption which I have suddenly decided is my least favourite object, second to my bag.

"Yeah. Whatever," I mutter.

I swing my bag off my shoulder and drop it.

"What should I do then?" I ask, pointing at the camera. Seifer looks at me like I'm stupid.

"You seriously just ask that, lamer?"

"I _know _I need to skate. What I need to know is what you want me to_ do_," I ask, restraining myself from face palming. I could have done without this, especially today.

"I _need _you to fuckin' _skate," _Seifer growls, his face growing confused. I can't resist it any longer. I face palm spectacularly.

" I mean what should I_ do_? Should I do a trick? A manual? A fucking aerial? Or maybe you want me to grind that rail front side?" I suggest sarcastically. As I expected, Seifer had no idea what I was speaking about, his face confirming this.

"Speak english, lamer," he growls. I smirk.

"I thought you could skate?" I ask condescendingly.

"I _can _skate, bitch," he hisses "it's just no human being could possibly have any idea what the fuck just came out of your mouth,"

I kick my board towards him. I cannot tell you the glee I felt as it collided with his ankle. Let's just say it was pretty gleeful.

"The fuck was that for?" he asks, and mollusk..I mean Rai starts towards him before being waved off.

"I'm fine, jeez," he hisses at the other. Then he turns to me. I shrug.

"You were being a dick," I say lightly, catching my board with my heel as it is kicked back towards me.

"Whatever. Just skate in from over there," Seifer commanded, gesturing right.

"Just skate?" I ask. He shrugs.

"Whatever," he muttered, attaching the camera to the thing and pushing various buttons. I nod, though he can't see, and skate in the direction he vaguely pointed to, turning and waiting for a signal. I'm about to ask what it is when an angry "Fucking go then," is shouted out, and I push off. I set my sights for the rail and ollie, landing my trucks on either side.

There. Done. I can't help the grin on my face as I land, turning to face the camera, unable to wipe it from my face in time. Great. It's been caught on film.

I watch as Seifer picks up his thing and moves somewhere else. I make to follow him, but he stops me.

"No. Stay there, chickenwuss,"

So I do (looking like a bit of an idiot if I say so myself).

"Now do it again," he demands. I blink.

"What?"

He sighs.

"Just do it," he snaps. And I do. Ten freaking times. Why the hell do I need to do the same trick ten freaking times? I ask him.

"Because, lamer, we needed to shoot it from more then one angle. Plus your third take was shit," he says, bluntly. I grind my teeth.

"And what about the other nine?" I asked angrily. He shrugs, having the nerve to look nonchalant.

"Needed more angles, lamer," does he have to call me 'lamer', 'chickenwuss' or 'bitch' every other sentence?

"Listen here fuckface, I..."

My angry tirade is cut short by the presence of a familiar face. I don't know the guy by name, but he's one of the local 'hardcore' skaters. Safe to say I don't really like him, and the feeling is likely mutual.

"You still teetotal?"

I turn to face him and notice, with distaste, the bottle hanging from his fingertips. So casual. It makes me sick.

"Yeah I am actually," I say, crossing my arms across my chest. I watch as he grins, taking a swig of the fucking stuff.

"You sure," he taunts, waving it towards me.

"Yes, " I say, my voice showing I am deadly serious. He shrugs, swaying slightly.

"You're losss," he slurs, stumbling away.

"_Stupid fuck_," I mutter under my breath.

"Hey, you know him?" I look at Seifer, shrugging.

"Not really," I sigh. It' true. Half the people here I don't really know. Maybe I'm exaggerating. Maybe that boy was being dare I say 'nice' in offering me some drink. I mean, he doesn't know does he? Maybe it's just me. But as soon as I see them drinking I hate it. I dislike them almost immediately. I mean sure, we've got some issues over the music, but maybe they're not that bad. Maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion because of the drink. But I can't help it.

"You don't drink?" Seifer asks, sounding incredulous.

"No. Why'd you ask?" I say sharply. He raises an eyebrow.

"No reason," he says slowly "you seem the type though," he adds, almost as an afterthought. My fingers clench. I seem the type do I? I seem the type to forget I have a son? That I have a life other then that...that _fucking _drink? That I often wake up in my own vomit, shivering, remembering the reasons why I drink...

I am _nothing _like my mother. Or my father. If I truly took after my parents I'd be in a home somewhere having tried to drown myself in vodka.

I'll admit it. It wasn't Seifer's fault. He didn't know. There was no way he could have known. That still didn't stop the fact I was _pissed off._

I don't think I even looked at him, just turned and grabbed my board, leaping onto it and ignoring the cries of "Oi, lamer!". I was so ready to just skate out and forget this. I think the fact I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going might have been the reason what happened, happened.

I got hit. Not by a fist, no, it wasn't malicious at all. Just one of those wrong place wrong time things. But someone slammed into me, full speed, on their board, causing me to fly off and skid backwards along the concrete, some random person sprawled on top of me. I felt the weight lift, and saw him stand shakily to his feet.

"Fuck! You should watch where you're going," he shouted at me. Why wasn't I shouting back? Maybe the fact my back had been practically ripped open from the force of the blow and I was in quite a bit of pain from it. And by 'quite a bit' I mean a_ fucking lot. _

"Shit! Oi, lamer, look at me," I tilt my head and see Seifer, hovering above me, an unfamiliar expression across his face. Had I not been in so much pain, I'd have probably noticed this, but I was, so I didn't.

"You could have fucking killed me!" the guy who'd it me was still complaining. He should have thanked me. He'd practically used me as a cushion, and let me just say, he wasn't exactly light.

"Shut the fuck up," oh that was Seifer talking again.

"Not till he apologizes!" and how was I supposed to do that?

"You were the one who rammed into him," Seifer sounded quite angry. Don't know why though. Must be pissed at the guy for interrupting our argument.

"He came out of nowhere, of course I hit the teetotal prick!" did _everyone _know I didn't drink at this park or something?

"Dude, you should just calm down y'know?" that'll be mollusk speaking. I groan slightly as I force myself onto my elbows. I bat away Seifer's hand (why was he offering me help anyway?) and drag myself to my feet. The pain had kind of subsided now. It just stung. I grab my bag, hooking it over my arm rather then across my back, grab my board and walk, deciding against skating.

"Oi, lamer!" I continue to ignore him. Which is kind of hard to do once he's caught up with me.

"What?" I spit angrily, stopping and whirling round to face him. He looks taken aback slightly. I notice how far I've walked. We're no longer in the park, now just in the street. Seifer's bodyguards aren't here meaning it's just me and him. Him and me.

"What was all that about?" he demands. I shrug, playing dumb. He grabs my arm.

"You just walked off," he hisses, digging his nails in. I wince slightly, not sure if he was referring to the first time, or the second. I don't answer, and after a bit he just let's go.

"Fuck off Seifer. Go hang with your bodyguards," I sneer. I see him twitch.

"They're my friends, bitch, something you seem to lack," he growls. I wince. There's not really a reply to that, considering it's true. I just look away.

"Oi, being serious here. Where is Roxas?" I smile tightly at him, my dry lips almost splitting from the motion.

"Probably fucking his boyfriend," I say venomously. There's a silence which doesn't seem to want to end, and I watch as Seifer seems unsure of what to say.

"Want to go to the beach?" someone asks. That someone turns out to be me, I realise in horror that I'd spoken, yet again my mouth has acted before my brain. Where had that come from though? I realise at this moment, that not only have I acted stupidly, but I'm going to have to pay for that by hearing Seifer...

"Yeah, whatever,"

...reject me verbally (he'll probably hit me) and...wait. What?

I look at Seifer, taking in his hunched posture, his hands balled up in his pockets. It's almost as if he's refusing to look at me.

"What?" I ask, dumbly, like I can't believe it. I _can't _really believe it.

"I said yeah fucktard. Not like there's anything else to do" Seifer growls, trailing off at the end.

So that's how we end up at the beach. Me and him. Him and me. Me, Hayner and Seifer. It's unheard of. Anyone who saw us would have been shocked (well...providing they knew us obviously).

"Is Roxas really with that guy?" Seifer asks. We've ended up sitting on a bench facing the sand and the sea.

"Axel? Yeah. What of it?" I ask, suspicious. He shrugs.

"Nothing. Just never thought he swung that way," he muttered. I lean back.

"Guess it's hard to tell with some people" I bite. He looks at me strangely and I ignore it. I realise something.

"Where's all your camera stuff?" I ask.

"Rai took it for me," I didn't need to ask why. He'd come after me for some unknown reason. Not that I minded. No.

"He's not thick," he says suddenly. I look at him strangely. Yeah. Right. He catches my look.

"Seriously. He just takes longer to get it," if he ever 'get's it'. I feel slightly guilty for thinking this, but brush it off. If I started down that road I wouldn't make it out alive.

"Whatever," I shrug.

"He's smarter then you at any rate, lamer" he says, glaring at me. I take offence at that.

"Shut. Up," I say, slowly. Just so he understands. Prick. You try to be nice...

It's weird. You'd think we'd start arguing at that point. Fighting even. But no. We just...talk. It's strange talking with someone who obviously hates you. It got so borderline friendly almost that I couldn't help but ask.

"Want to get ice cream?"

"What, sea-salt?" he asks. Yet again, no rejection.

"Yeah,"

"Yeah, okay," he says gruffly. We both stand up awkwardly and head over to the shop. I can guarantee that 'what am I doing?' is running through both our heads. It's weird. As we order. Dare I say nice? I like it. The lack of fighting. True, I love the fighting. When I'm in the mood it's great. Fun. Exciting. When I'm not it's the last thing I want to do. I'm not much in the mood, so not fighting is a-okay with me.

I gasp. The ice-cream drips slightly.

"What?" Seifers asks, one eye brow raised. I gesture towards the sea-salt.

"Too cold," I mutter, bringing it slowly to my lips this time. I watch as Seifer averts his gaze.

"Can't handle it?" he taunts. I huff, biting down on it. Like I can't handle it. It stings my teeth but I bare it and swallow, grinning at him.

"That answer your question?" I quip, tossing the stick to the ground.

"Your back okay?" I must have looked shocked as he immediately back peddled.

"Just don't want you bitching to me about it when we do the filming," he looks away.

"Whatever. It's fine, stings like a bitch, but I'll live," I say, coming across alot more tough then I felt. It stung like _hell. _Wasn't about to let him know that though. Give him some leverage on me? No way.

"I've gotta go," I stand, grabbing my board. Seifer looks as if he wants to say something, then gives a nod. I nod back, and jump onto my board ignoring his shouts of "walk, lamer! You're gonna kill yourself,". I just turn, give him a self assuring grin, and carry on skating. Back to my house. It was hard skating whilst carrying a bag on one arm, but there was no way I was putting on.

I really need to check my back out when I get back. My T-shirts been ripped open, my skin obviously cut and it's probably got gravel and dirt in it. Which is a bitch considering I won't be able to clean it properly. I'll have to have a hot shower which will no doubt aggravate it, and absolutely kill. It'll be clean though. I sigh slightly. This would be a whole lot easier if Roxas were here. In fact, if Axel had never come along. My life is hell, and I know it, but it would be a whole lot hellish if there were someone there. If Roxas hadn't fucking betrayed me.

I'm so angry I barely notice the shoes in the passageway. But I do notice them, and as soon as I notice them my anger increases, my breathing erratic as I spy the size eleven shoes. She did it again. She fucking did it again. I run into the living room and grab him. I know he'll be there. He's about two feet taller then me, but I am _pissed _so it's easy enough to practically throw him into the hallway.

"The fuck?" he shrieks. I get a good look at his face. It's what his name. Jerry? Joe? Hell, it might not even begin with a 'J'. I don't care either, grabbing his shirt and pulling him towards the door. He pulls back.

"Wha' the fuck are you doing you little shit?" he hisses, slamming me back into the wall. Which hurt by the way. Not that I exactly notice at this point. I'm too angry.

"Get. Out," I scream, pointing towards the door. He seems taken back by the sheer volume of my voice.

"Jesus, shut up kid. She called me, she fucking_ called me_," the thing is I know she did. I know she called him. It's always the same.

"She doesn't need you," I say through gritted teeth. My hands are balled into two tight fists, ready to swing. He backs up slightly.

"Fuck you're crazy. _You're both fucking crazy_!" he grabs his shoes and I shove him as he reaches down.

"_Get out_!" I spit. He scrambles upwards, yanking the door open.

"You're psycho," he shrieks "get some fucking help," he slams the door shut. And I'm alone. In the corridor. My back is on fire, and my skin is red hot, burning red hot, my throat raw from screaming. But I don't care. I walk into the living room and approach her where she's lying on the sofa, crumpled. Used.

"Why? Why mom?" I shout, ignoring the fact I'm breaking a key rule. Never shout at her.

"Hayner?" her eyes are glassy, like she's not really there.

"Why do you keep calling them mom? You don't need them, they _don't love you,"_

"Shut up," she holds her hands over her ears, clenching her hair, damp with grease "you don't...you don't know a-anything Hayner,"

"You promised me mom. You promised you'd stop calling them," I shout. I can feel this tension building up behind my eyes and it's similar to tears, only I know it _can't _be tears because I don't cry. I _can't _cry. I spy her phone on the coffee table by the sofa and make a grab for it, opening the back and removing the sim card.

"You have to stop doing this mom,"

I don't even know what I'm referring to at this point. The drink. Her exes. The amount of times I've arrived home and found that extra pair of shoes. Seen her with yet another man.

"I...I w-was lonely," she hiccups, and my eyes begin to burn. I put an arm awkwardly around her, and once again I'm on autopilot, the anger gone.

"I know mom. I' m sorry," and I am. I don't know why but I'm sorry. I'm guilty. And I hate it.

An hour later and she's in bed. I'm hungry, starving, the only thing I'd eaten was that ice-cream, and with a jolt I realise I hadn't even paid for it. Seifer must have. I clench my fists. I can't even afford an ice-cream. My enemy had to buy me an ice-cream. How pathetic is that?

I log into facebook. I don't know why, I should really try sleeping. But I do. I opened the old laptop and leeched onto someone else's internet. So what if it's slow, it's still there. I have messages. There's one from Axel surprisingly.

..._why couldn't you have just fucking left it? Roxas is really..._

I click back and ignore it, instead clicking on one of Roxas's.

_...come on Hayner fucking answer me. Where are you? You left yesterday and..._

He sounded concerned. Strange considering he'd just betrayed me. I'm glad though. Glad that he's concerned. Because as much as I don't want it, I _need _the hope that he gives me. That my best friend gives me. I know if he genuinely betrayed me, I wouldn't be okay. Not at all. No, he'd never r_eally _betray me. He hit me, but I deserved it. I always do. Wait, he's never hit me before yesterday. I mean when I get hit. I don't know what I mean. I need to sleep.

_smash_

...looks like mom's up.

tbc.

Review? I'll love you! And so will Hayner. At least give him some love!!

I don't know what to say about this chapter. It made me really sad at some parts typing it (the angst, ohhh the angst!), and nervous in others just thinking 'what am I writing? Who the hell's going to enjoy this shit??'

I _hope_ you enjoy it, and tell me why? And if you don't also tell me why?

Oh, by the way I have got most of my skating knowledge from my cousin (who considers himself to be a skateboarging _god), _so feel free to correct me if you noticed anything wrong.

Just out of interest, has anyone else read The Breaker?


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